


i never thought i could love anyone the way i love you

by vityenka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bearded Victor Nikiforov, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I JUST WANT VIKTOR WITH A BEARD, Like there's a lot of fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, sort of introspective? idk yuuri just thinks about how much he loves viktor a lot, they're so in love ya'll, un-betaed we die like men, viktor’s foot kink if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vityenka/pseuds/vityenka
Summary: The window is frosted with the cold outside. Yuuri sinks down to sit on the bench seat and pulls a blanket over his legs. Down below, a flash of silver catches the light of the lamps and Yuuri watches Viktor and Makkachin stroll along. The light of the lobby seeps out into the street and the two turn inside, glass doors closing behind them. Yuuri finishes his wine and sets it on the table. He goes to the linen closet to retrieve a soft towel to wipe Makka’s paws on, and one of Viktor’s cozy sweaters he likes to burrow into after a walk.Yes, it’s domestic. Yuuri wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 10
Kudos: 173





	i never thought i could love anyone the way i love you

**Author's Note:**

> i post once every millennia apparently. anyway, i hope you like this! i wrote it super spur of the moment, but i'm actually pretty happy with it? this is me indulging my love of soft victuuri. also viktor growing a beard, because i'm gay and so is yuuri. ps i've never written and posted smut before so be kind.

The morning comes dark and sleepy. St. Petersburg, at five in the morning, is not quite alive. The sun doesn’t come up for another few hours, but Yuuri and Viktor have practice to attend. It’s December, the Grand Prix Final dawning over the horizon. The sun will rise around nine in the morning, when they have been at practice for at least two hours. Yuuri, having lived here since September, is still not quite used to the lack of sun in the mornings.

Regardless, Yuuri rolls over under the bundle of blankets to face his fiancé. Viktor, though a morning person, won’t wake until he hears his alarm. He sleeps like the dead for the most part. In the shadows of their bedroom, Yuuri can barely make out his face, soft with sleep. He reaches out and skims gentle fingers along the sharp of Viktor’s jaw and feels the barely-there stubble. It prickles his fingers, and for a moment he wonders what Viktor would look like bearded, what it would feel like against his sensitive skin, how it would rasp across his lip when they kiss. Yuuri feels his cock twitch in his pajama pants, but he’s too lazy to think much about it. He allows himself to indulge in the idea of Viktor’s beard, slightly darker than his silvery hair, perhaps the same color as his eyebrows or pubic hair. Viktor mumbles something in his sleep, wiggling closer to Yuuri’s warmth. The bedroom is always not-quite warm enough, perfect for the mounds and mounds of blankets the two of them have, along with the weight of Makkachin. 

Viktor sucks in a deep breath and stretches luxuriously, long limbs tensing and loosening as he works out the sleep still settled in his bones. He blinks open bleary blue eyes that immediately seek out Yuuri, who gives him a soft smile and a kiss along his jaw. “Mmph,” Viktor grumbles, curling closer. He wraps octopus arms and legs around Yuuri, tightening his grip so he can’t escape. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri whispers into the soft skin of his neck. Viktor makes another grumbling sound and snuffles against Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri smiles. “We have to shower, come on.” Viktor presses closer, melting into Yuuri’s body heat. He finally raises his head and squints at Yuuri. 

“Time’s it?” He yawns directly in Yuuri’s face. Yuuri scrunches his nose. 

“Almost five,” Yuuri replies. He threads his fingers through Viktor’s messy hair. It’s starting to grow out, the cowlick on the back of Viktor’s head sticking up prominently. “We need to be out the door by six.” Viktor whines and digs his fingers into the fleshy parts of Yuuri’s hips. 

He presses a kiss to the underside of Yuuri’s jaw. “Or we could stay in bed all day,” he grumbles. Yuuri nearly gives in, Viktor’s raspy, deep voice, setting his blood on fire. “We’d get lots of practice in,” he continues, practically purring. 

“As much as I want to,” Yuuri begins, smoothing down the cowlick only for it to pop back up, “Yakov is expecting us.” Viktor huffs. 

Viktor presses another kiss to Yuuri’s jaw before rolling to his side table and unplugging his phone. Twitter, Instagram, and text message notifications obscure his background, which is a photo of their summer in Hasetsu. They had spent the day exploring restaurants in Fukuoka, blessedly anonymous outside of Hasetsu in the business parts of the city. They explore open air markets, Viktor having indulged as much as he could. What Yakov didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, he had whispered in Yuuri’s ear before stealing a bite of takoyaki. 

The photo on Viktor’s phone is one a kind local had taken of them outside the Fukuoka Art Museum. Yuuri’s arms are wrapped around Viktor’s middle, head resting on Viktor’s shoulder, while Viktor has his wraps around Yuuri’s neck and is kissing the top of his head. It’s sweet, and Viktor posts it again every few months to remind everyone how much he loves his future husband. 

“Fine. I have to shave anyway,” Viktor says after he clears his notifications. Yuuri’s heart leaps, and for a moment he imagines Viktor growing his beard out, the burn of it rasping across his skin as Viktor kisses his way down Yuuri’s body. 

Yuuri bites his lip. “Or,” he starts, “you could let it grow out?” Viktor doesn’t say anything for a moment and Yuuri blushes furiously. Thank god it’s still dark so Viktor can’t see the horrific shade of red Yuuri is turning. 

“You want me to?” Viktor asks. He doesn’t sound upset or like he’s judging Yuuri. He sounds contemplative, like he’s imaging the same thing Yuuri was only a moment prior. Yuuri makes a noncommittal noise, feigning a lack of interest. “I could, you know.” Viktor tosses his phone off to the side and pulls Yuuri closer. Yuuri shivers and tucks himself further into Viktor’s arms. “Would you like that, Yuuri? You want to know what it’s like to kiss me with a beard?” Viktor’s mouth is so close to Yuuri’s ear, his accent thicker in the morning and curling deliciously around each word.  
“Yeah,” Yuuri manages. “I would.” Yuuri can tell, even in the dark, that Viktor is grinning wickedly. 

———————

They manage to make it to the rink before Yakov begins turning purple. Yuuri counts this as a win, seeing as they had taken longer in the shower than they planned. Even though Viktor’s stubble has barely grown in, Yuuri can still feel the slight burn of it between his legs as he warms up. He tries, with no luck, to ignore Viktor standing by the boards, hip pressed against the wall as he talks over his short program with Yakov. He only allows himself to indulge when Viktor calls, voice bright, “Yuuri!” 

The rest of the day is spent with Yuuri running through his short program. Now that Yuuri has another quad under his belt, Viktor allows him to up the difficulty of Eros. Viktor is across the rink running through his long. He marks his jumps and works on his step sequences. Even in its infancy, Yuuri could tell the program would be Viktor’s best yet. 

The day winds down with Yuuri in the ballet studio. The sun set two hours ago, and Yuuri’s stomach is grumbling. By the time Lilia has clapped her hands and told him to cool down, Yuuri is practically salivating thinking about the leftover pirozhki Yura brought them this weekend. A knock sounds and Viktor slips through the studio door. Yuuri glances into the mirror and sees Lilia’s pinched mouth, though her eyes soften and she greets Viktor kindly. 

“Hey, love,” Viktor greets. 

Yuuri bends himself in half, touching his toes. He hears a choked noise from behind him. “Hi, Vitya,” he replies, coy. 

“If you two are going to flirt, get out of my studio.” Lilia gripes. She’s staring Viktor down from the corner of Yuuri’s eye. 

“Lilia!” Viktor whines, “I’m only here to pick up your favorite student!” 

“And give me another gray hair.” 

“You already have--” At this, Yuuri unfolds himself and scrambles for his bag. He’s frankly too tired and hungry to hear Lilia rip his fiancé a new asshole because Viktor can’t keep his giant mouth shut. Yuuri grabs Viktor’s hand and drags him to the door. 

“See you tomorrow, Lilia-sensei!” Yuuri bows quickly before he shoves Viktor into the hallway. Lilia smirks. 

In the hallway, Viktor nearly tackles Yuuri to the floor in his haste to kiss him. Viktor’s fingers splay across Yuuri’s face and he grips his waist tightly. “I missed you,” Viktor purrs. He licks his way into Yuuri’s mouth, the rasp of his stubble burning its way across Yuuri’s lips. 

“Mm, Vitya,” Yuuri gasps. “Not here. Lilia will kill me.” 

Viktor bites down on his jaw. “She likes you too much. And let’s not talk about her now.” He leans in, lips against Yuuri’s ear. “I ordered food.” Fuck the pirozhki. Yuuri shudders. It’s ridiculous what Viktor can make sound sexy. 

———————

Yuuri inhales the food, stomach rumbling angrily. Makkachin bumps her head impatiently against Viktor’s leg while he pulls on his boots for their night time walk, and Yuuri does the dishes. It’s so domestic, he thinks, as he’s drying the wine glasses they use for everything because Viktor likes to be fancy. He dims the lights hanging above the kitchen island, casting a warm glow across the concrete counter. 

The large window by the table looks out over the Neva, street lights playing off the water. Yuuri leaves a wine glass out and fills it for himself with the white wine Chris gave them as a housewarming gift. He sips it slowly, watching the few people out walk by below. The window is frosted with the cold outside. Yuuri sinks down to sit on the bench seat and pulls a blanket over his legs. Down below, a flash of silver catches the light of the lamps and Yuuri watches Viktor and Makkachin stroll along. The light of the lobby seeps out into the street and the two turn inside, glass doors closing behind them. Yuuri finishes his wine and sets it on the table. He goes to the linen closet to retrieve a soft towel to wipe Makka’s paws on, and one of Viktor’s cozy sweaters he likes to burrow into after a walk. 

Yes, it’s domestic. Yuuri wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

Viktor comes inside and they wipe Makka’s feet. Viktor hangs his burberry coat on the rack, shucks his shoes off and lets Yuuri help him into the soft sweater. His hair is mussed and he kisses Yuuri, lips soft despite the harsh weather outside. His cold fingers grip Yuuri’s jaw. His stubble brushes along Yuuri’s cheek when Viktor pulls away and presses gentle kisses to his nose, cheeks, and jaw. Yuuri takes Viktor’s hands in his and rubs them with his own, warming them up. He blows on them. Viktor watches, entranced, then raises his head to look at Yuuri with such a soft look it makes his chest ache. Makkachin curls up in her bed by the radiator, and Viktor follows Yuuri into their bedroom. 

They burrow under the blankets and don’t come out until the next morning. 

———————

Over the next week, Viktor’s beard grows quickly. By the fifth day, he has a noticeable layer of hair along his jaw. He takes good care of it, and by the end of the week it’s soft enough for Yuuri to kiss him without a gentle red spreading across his upper lip. 

On the seventh day, Yuuri has to physically restrain himself from dragging Viktor into the locker room and blowing him until he screams. 

They get home that night and as soon as they’re through the door, Viktor slams Yuuri up against the heavy wood. Yuuri lets out a gasp, before his mouth is engulfed by Viktor’s. His lips are hot, and wet, and they move together like a well-oiled machine. “You were staring,” Viktor rumbles. “All day.” His cold fingers push up under Yuuri’s shirt to spread across his sides, squeezing generously. Yuuri arches into Viktor. The obvious bulge in Yuuri’s pants brushes hot against Viktor’s, and he whines. His head falls back against the door and Viktor attacks his throat, biting along his unmarked throat until he’s satisfied the bruises will be visible. 

Yuuri pushes at Viktor’s coat, suddenly realizing they’re both wearing too many clothes. It falls to the floor in a heap, followed by Yuuri’s own coat, their shirts, and then Viktor is unbuttoning Yuuri’s pants and Yuuri’s unbuttoning Viktor’s. “Vitya,” Yuuri gasps as Viktor’s hand brushes against his cock straining in his boxers. “Vitya, I need you now.” Viktor slides long fingers into Yuuri’s hair and pulls him in, his silvery-blond beard grazing Yuuri’s jaw deliciously.  
Viktor shoves Yuuri’s pants down, Yuuri kicking them off. He hikes Yuuri up by his thighs, and Yuuri almost melts at the sheer strength Viktor possesses. “You want me how, solnyshko?” Viktor whispers. He’s so close, his pupils blown wide, the blue of his eyes only a ring. 

“Inside me, on me, I don’t care,” Yuuri hisses. He grabs Viktor’s chin. “I just need you.” Viktor stares at him for a moment, before he tightens his grip on Yuuri’s thighs and wraps his legs around Viktor’s waist. 

Before Yuuri knows what’s happening, Viktor’s carrying him into their bedroom, shoving the door open with his shoulder and throwing Yuuri onto the mattress. He bounces, chest heaving, and Viktor kicks the door shut with a bang. Yuuri sends a silent prayer that the neighbors don’t complain again. In the low light, Viktor looks ethereal. His hair, messy from where Yuuri ran his fingers through it, is a silvery-yellow halo, where the light bounces off. He’s framed in shadows, all long limbs and broad shoulders as he watches Yuuri.

For a moment, Yuuri feels like he’s floating, like he’s watching all this from above. It’s like he’s seeing himself, for the first time, the way Viktor sees him. He’s splayed out on the bed, hair a mess, straining out of his boxers. He feels overcome, suddenly, with the love he has for what they are. They’ve created something so perfect out of two men who a year ago had no idea what their futures would look like. But it’s not. It’s not perfect. Because they’re human, and in love, and those two things can be hard. Sometimes they fight, and sometimes Viktor makes Yuuri so mad he wants to rip his own hair out, but it’s rare. 

Viktor, not the Viktor Nikiforov the world knows, but the one Yuuri does, is soft and kind. He’s sexy, but not because of his body, which is gorgeous, but because he loves pleasure. He loves to be loved, and doted on, and made to fall apart until he’s a mess of unintelligible words. Yuuri loves the Viktor who forgets his English when Yuuri sucks on the inside of his thigh just so. He loves the Viktor who takes Makkachin for long night time walks and talks to her in baby-voice Russian. He loves the Viktor who waves to Yuuri every time he skates by him at the rink, without fail, which sends Yakov into a fiery rage. He loves the Viktor who cries much easier than he lets on. He loves the Viktor who loves romantic comedies, especially While You Were Sleeping, and the Viktor who is known at the market down the street, and the Viktor who has a ridiculously complicated hair and skin, and now beard routine. Viktor, who grew a beard because Yuuri was curious. 

He’s back in his body, and Viktor is stalking across the room, shedding his pants and the tight underwear he likes. Viktor climbs onto the bed, his thighs bracketing Yuuri’s hips. He reaches up and presses Yuuri’s wrists into the soft sheets and leans down, beard tickling Yuuri’s face, to ghost his lips across Yuuri’s. “Do you know,” Viktor whispers, “how beautiful you are?” 

For a moment, Yuuri looks at him. Then he whispers, “Yes.” 

Viktor lunges, pulling Yuuri into a deep kiss, one that sends flames licking through Yuuri’s veins. His toes curl, his hips buck into Viktor’s, seeking friction. Viktor grasps Yuuri’s wrists with one hand, and with the other drags the firm heel of his other hand across the bulge in Yuuri’s boxers. He dips his fingers into the waistband and pulls, releasing Yuuri’s cock. The cool air is relief on his hot skin, and he whimpers desperately into Viktor’s mouth. Viktor pulls away, then, and dives down, licking and sucking his way down Yuuri’s neck and chest, down to the V of his hips. He lingers over Yuuri’s thighs, kneading the firm muscle. He bypasses Yuuri’s cock, but lets his breath ghost over the red, leaking tip of it, the wisps of his beard brushing across the length of it. Yuuri cries out, gripping the sheets desperately. 

“Vitya, please!” Yuuri throws his head back, barely able to keep his eyes open for how good Viktor’s hands and lips feel. 

“So impatient,” Viktor murmurs. He bites a hickey into the meat of Yuuri’s thigh. Yuuri hooks a calf over Viktor’s shoulder, pressing him down towards his cock. He digs his heel into Viktor’s expansive back, and relishes in the shudder it elicits from his fiancé. Fiancé, the word still sending Yuuri’s heart into overdrive. 

Viktor lowers his mouth to press a kiss to the head of Yuuri’s cock. It jumps at the contact, more precum leaking out of the tip. “You’re so needy,” Viktor says, voice full of wonder. “You want me so much.” 

“Is it so hard to believe?” Yuuri replies. He looks down at Viktor through his lashes, the way he knows sets Viktor off. And it does, by the way his breath hitches and his nails dig into Yuuri’s sides. 

“I never thought I could love anyone the way I love you.” Viktor says. Yuuri whimpers, closing his eyes against the torrent of emotion that sweeps through him. God he loves this man.  
“I need you, Vitya.” He can’t open his eyes, throat burning. “I need you.” 

“I need you, too,” Viktor climbs up Yuuri’s body and wraps a loose fist around his cock. “You have no idea, darling.” 

Yuuri draws him in for a kiss, cupping his face in shaking hands. “I do know. I do,” he gasps. “Please, Vityenka.” 

That’s all it takes. Viktor is scrabbling for the bedside table and pulling out the travel sized lube. They ran out of their giant bottle on the fourth day of Viktor’s beard growth. Viktor drizzles some onto Yuuri’s cock, squeezing tight fingers around it. Yuuri moans, writhing underneath him. It’s beautifully overwhelming, the feeling of Viktor on top and around him. Viktor then turns him over, strong hands guiding him into a comfortable position. Yuuri spreads his legs, curling his fingers into the silken sheets. He presses his cheek to them, the cool fabric nice against his skin. 

Viktor’s fingers are long and elegant, and in another life he might have played the piano. They run up the back of his thigh, squeezing his ass. For a moment, Yuuri’s confused. The looming presence of Viktor over him has disappeared, until he feels the rasp of Viktor’s beard along his thighs. His heart is caught in his throat. Viktor’s elegant fingers open him up, thumb brushing across his puckered rim. He whines, sound cut off when he presses his face into the mattress. 

“I want to hear you,” Viktor rumbles. “Don’t hold back.” And then he licks Yuuri open, tongue lapping hungrily at his entrance. Yuuri’s lost, his body giving itself over to the feeling of Viktor’s tongue pressing inside him, opening him up. It’s hot and wet, and Yuuri can barely breathe. 

He’s sure he’s making sounds, his voice catching on the desperate whine as Viktor slicks up his fingers and inserts one while he licks a strike up the underside of Yuuri’s cock. His cock jumps and he thrusts forward, desperate for any kind of friction. He’s leaking onto the bed, a string of precum connecting him to the sheets underneath. 

Viktor wiggles a second, then third finger into him. It’s divine, the hot drag of his fingers lighting a fire in Yuuri’s belly. He’s close, he can feel it building in his spine. Before he knows it, the fingers are disappearing and he can hear the wet sounds of Viktor slicking up his cock, the sharp hitch that comes with Viktor’s sensitivity. “Are you ready?” Viktor asks, one hand grasping Yuuri’s hip, the other sliding up his back to rest between his shoulder blades. It’s comforting, the firm weight of Viktor behind and above him. 

“I want to see you,” Yuuri bites out. He doesn’t have to wait before Viktor is flipping him over. There he is, then. All wild hair, mouth wet and red, beard soaked with lube and spit, and eyes blown wide. Yuuri looks between them at Viktor’s cock. It’s long, curved, and flushed. Yuuri’s mouth waters. Viktor helps him press his thighs to his chest, hooking Yuuri’s ankles over his broad shoulders. Then, the blunt pressure of Viktor’s cockhead is pressed up against his hole. Yuuri throws his head back, moaning, as Viktor worms the wide head inside. It fits perfectly, and Yuuri thinks this might be their true calling. 

In one fluid stroke, Viktor is buried inside Yuuri. Yuuri cries out, scrambling for purchase as Viktor fucks into him in long, deep thrusts. He groans and buries his face in Yuuri’s neck, biting down on the soft skin there. “Yuuri,” he growls, snapping his hips forward. Yuuri’s helpless to do anything but moan, fucking himself down onto Viktor’s cock. His own is trapped between them, leaking desperately as Yuuri hurtles closer and closer to the edge. He can feel Viktor’s cock pulsing inside him. Viktor’s thrusts become more erratic, hips snapping forward and the drag shallower. 

Then, Yuuri’s vision whites out and he’s spilling between them. He clenches tight around Viktor’s cock, and Viktor gives one more aborted thrust, before he lets out a guttural cry and shakes apart above Yuuri, legs shuddering. 

They stay like that for what feels like hours, Yuuri stroking the sweaty hairs at the back of Viktor’s neck. Viktor breathes against Yuuri’s skin, mouthing gently at the marks he left behind. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri finally manages, “My leg is cramping up.” Viktor heaves himself up onto his forearms and slowly extracts himself from Yuuri’s body. He helps Yuuri gently lower his legs, rubbing soothing hands along the muscles of Yuuri’s thighs. 

“Sorry, love,” Viktor whispers. He presses a kiss to Yuuri’s nose. Yuuri feels Viktor’s come running down his leg and he luxuriates in it, stretching himself out under Viktor. 

“Thank you,” Yuuri responds, equally as quiet. He brushes sweat-soaked hair off Viktor’s forehead. “That was amazing.” Viktor’s soft smile in response is all he needs. 

They’re in the bathroom afterwards showering, Viktor repeats the words he said earlier that had set Yuuri’s heart jackrabbiting out of his chest. 

As Yuuri helps him with his newfound beard care routine, he says, “I never thought I could love anyone the way I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked?? comments and kudos are so appreciated. if you wanna scream with me over how much these two love each other follow me on twitter @pplikeppl. ps if you see any typos or grammar mistakes let me know!


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